A War for Westeros
by Baros Baratheon
Summary: The King is facing war! Tyrell has already made moves to win over the Lannisters and promises to win over the Arryns as well. A Stark and a Baratheon work together to keep whatever 'peace' they have by entering an arrangement they aren't very happy with.


**A's Notes:** As I sat at my PC reading over someone's RP of this show, I realized how much I want to write for it and create my own little stories and characters. But I had a difficult time creating characters with history, any kind of history, so I went back to the RP thread, made an account, Pm'd a certain person of interest, asked for the characters, got them and then tried again. Still...I needed a story, so I went back and asked that person if she wanted to join up with me and if she had any other friends who would like to offer any kind of help, and she found a few people. This is a collaboration from me, Dashen (someone I know on a gaming forum), Tem (a girl on a writing forum) and NDRobb on a game creation forum. All their help, guidance and parts in writing these chapters, I think, has greatly improved the story. But we are always looking to hear suggestions or help. If you wish to help with the creation and editing and proofreading of this story, please PM either me here for any reason; the others do no have an account here, at least not that I know of lol

**Summary:** _The King of Westeros is facing a rebellion from House Tyrell and Martell. House Tyrell has already made moves to win over the Lannisters and promises to win over the Arryns as well. King Caleb Baratheon, third of his name, heads for Winterfell and hopes to secure and even tighter friendship with the Starks and his Bannermen, as well as hopefully winning over the Lannisters who have come to Winterfell under guest rights to seek out negotiations. A Stark and a Baratheon work together to keep whatever 'peace' they have in an arrangement they aren't very happy with.  
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**Chapter: **_Intro; Baratheons_

**Storm's End/Baros**

It was a weak storm set against the castle, its rain washing down the smooth surface of the eighty foot thick walls facing the sea. The sky was gloomy and dark grey with just the smear of light behind the blackish clouds. The wind, harsh on the sea and the cities, beat harmlessly against the walls of Storm's End, showing just how powerful the castle was and how much of a fight it would take to bring them down. Not even gods could take this castle down and in the history of the Baratheons, no one had besieged or taken it either. It was a perfect place to sit amongst war, hammering down arrows and spears from the walls, sending armed men out through the gates and able to pour boiling liquids down. The castle, to the enemies, looked like a fist raised high in the air and set against the sky, as a show of defiance to all and even the gods. It was also a perfect watch tower; allowing Storm's End and her men the perfect way to see approaching enemies from all sides.

But just as powerful as it was, it had its flaws. It was unthinkable boring within the walls and even uglier, at least to the young prince Baros Baratheon it was. His brothers and sister never seemed to mind though, particularly his sister. He hated seeing the black-gray walls, seeing the perfectly smooth walls, the all too smooth and floors and the even the rooms of the castle. It was a large castle, perfectly capable of housing many people, but all the rooms were tight and colored in dead colours, save the lively color of his father's House; a stag of black on a golden field. The stag banner adorned the walls, as well as the banner of his mother's house, which he often enjoyed more than his own. His mother, Casila Lorasa, was born to a smaller house whose banner was a deep green field with a white dolphin in a leap. Her house was north-east of Haystack Hall, near the ocean cliffs. His father, Caleb Baratheon, had met her when he visited her House with his father. They had stopped at her House when Baros's little brother fell and broke a leg right pass. They had been in need of a maester...Baros remember hearing the tale of his parents meeting from both sides, but he loved his mother's version the best because she showed how much she cared for him when she told it.

By now he was training in the open belly of Storm's End, a makeshift sword meant for training, clasped in his hands as he smashed against his younger brother's defenses. Roland, a boy of 19, was panting and sweating as he tried to parry his brother's attacks. "Come brother, stronger!" he shouted, swinging again.

"Come on, Roland!" shouted the youngest boy, Mekel, a boy of 6. "Stronger! Stronger!" Roland, smiling and encouraged by his brothers, pushed more strength into his arms and started to swing back, trying to smash his brother's sword out of the way. In seven swings he nearly succeeded and had Baros backing up, until he left his defenses open and received four smacks; two on his thigh and the last two his padded ribs. The boy buckled over, dropped his sword and fell flat on his back, his long, curly black hair falling down his shoulders and stuck to his sweaty face. The next second the wooden sword tip pulled into view and then his brother's smiling face.

"Much better brother," he helped him up and clasped his shoulders tightly. "You are a fine swordsman," he turned to look at Mekel. "Do you want to try, young Mekel?" the boy chirped and jumped off his perch and ran off, so Roland could help him don his armor. He took formation against Roland then and was then instructed by Baros. "Don't hold the sword with such strength Mekel," he called out when he swung so hard it rang him like a bell when he missed. "Hold it softer, but swing with your strength - yes, yes, like that." he dropped the sword then and was pelted by Roland's sword.

"No fair!" he snapped, grabbing his sword and holding it against his chest. "I was getting my sword! Cheater! Cheater!"

"I'm not a cheater, brother." Roland said, laughing. "An enemy cannot cheat!"

"Roland, behave." Baros muttered, standing. "He's practicing, let him pick his sword up if he drops it - he _is_ a child." he scolded his brother, trying not to chuckle himself.

"I'm no child!" he complained, his big brown eyes watering up. "Mom says I'm a big strong man!" Roland started laughing then and Mekel started to cry.

"You two leave him alone!" barked a viciously charming voice. A young girl stormed out of the castle, her own 'sword' in hand and started over to beat the two boys and teach them a fierce lesson.

"Now you wait here Ale-" Roland tried to explain, but her wooden spoon soon met the top of his head four times before he could even react. He growled, smacked the spoon away and raised his own little wooden weapon, but Baros grabbed his arm firmly and pushed him away. The young girl grabbed Mekel's hand and helped him out of the armor. "If you two can't behave, don't try to train him!"

"We were perfectly behaved, my sweet sister." Baros explained, smiling and hoping this wouldn't be brought up to their mother. His sister, Alexandra 'Alex' Baratheon is a young maiden, her ten and six name day had just passed two months ago and she already assumed an adult command over them, even though he was the elder by nearly seven years. She had a head of curly, light brown hair that fell just a bit past her shoulders and almost almond-like eyes of light gray. He adored his sister, but she annoyed him greatly at times. "Weren't we Mekel?"

The boy sniffed, rubbed at his eyes and then pointed an accusing little finger at Roland. "_he_ kept hittin' me!" he whined, stuffing his face against his sister's side to sob. She shot angry eyes at her brother and then crossed her arms.

"Well?" her voice was kissed with rage.

"Well what?" Roland laughed. "If he wasn't wantin' a good spanking, he shouldn't have decided to train."

She frowned and called him craven and stupid, and invited a raging fit from him. Before Baros could think, the boy shoved all his weight into his hands and knocked his sister flat against the dirt, roughly. A cloud of dirt filled the air and Mekel ran off to the castle, most likely to get their mother, as usual. Baros pulled Roland away and then shoved him hard and then turned to help his sister up. Roland's face had adopted a dark red shade and his near black eyes seemed to shimmer in rage, embarrassment and hate.

"Alex, are you okay?" Baros whispered, leaning her against him until she regained her balance. She nodded weakly then and then glared at her brother with angry eyes, opening her mouth to spill a storm of insults at him, but her brother beat her to it. "What the hell is wrong with you!" he barked, letting his sister go to stand before his little brother, his face flaring and looking much like their father when he was angry. "You could have hurt her! What was going on in that idiotic head of-"

"-What is going on here?" they turned to see their mother marching out of the castle with Mekel by her side. She had light brown hair and dark gray eyes. She was tall for a woman, nearing Baro's height of five and nine feet. She had pale, smooth skin and thin lips, but she had an aura about her that made any man kneel in loyalty, something their father did not have. Her voice was like honey and music, if Baros could find something to compare it too; sweet as honey and beautiful and strong as music. But right now, her eyes had nothing but anger in them.

Baros obliged to tell his mother and explained everything, and by the end her face betrayed no other emotion but calm anger...like the storms that often hit their castle. Her eyes went to her second son. "Is this true, son?" after a moment of silence, he reluctantly nodded. "And is this an action of a true man? Hitting a woman? A woman of blood?" the embarrassment that hit Roland made Baros grimace and he glanced over to his sister and spotted guilt in her eyes...or perhaps it was pain, he could not tell for sure. "Well, is it...?" her voice was calm, loving; it only flustered Roland even more.

"No..." he whispered, his voice hoarse. "It is not..."

"What will you do?" she asked, a faint smile on her face and the knowledge of what her son would do next glittering in her eyes. He stepped in front of his sister, bowed his head and then lifted to look her in the eyes.

"I am sorry sister, my anger had bested me." they stood staring at each other for what seemed like moments before Alex faltered, turned and hurried off, looking rather pale. He watched her leave and enter the castle before he stood straight and heard his mother's soft voice thanking him for the knightly action. His eyes never left the door as his mother spoke.

"Now let's head in to break our fast boys, your father has received a letter the North. Come my children, come." and then they followed, obediently.

**Dining Hall**

Baros' father had seated himself on the dais in front of the dining hall. A long table curved around him and the dais, an empty seat for each of his kids, wife and brother and sister's family were present. It only took twenty minutes for most of the chairs to fill. First there was the Hand of the King, Larsan (Larsa by the king and his sister) Barrens, a man from the North who had lived his life as an adopted son of the father before the current Lord of Winterfell. His family had been murdered by a band of brigands seeking stags and dragons in their house; he and his sister were spared by the gods by hiding in the woods when they saw the strangers enter their home. His sister, Amnia, had been given a new House when Larsan was taken as the Hand and Lord of Barrenhold, a small little hall located east of Stony Shore on the little piece of land split by two large rivers. He was a tall man that he heard women often call extremely handsome, though he saw nothing in the man's face but fierce loyalty and compassion. He wore Baratheon colours proud with a mixture of his own, though he downplayed it for honor. He was a man of four and six and had a face of dark brown beard and hair of the same color, though both were colored grey near the start to show his age. He had dark green eyes and rough hands...he remembered how rough they were from when he was a lad and would misbehave. Lord Larsan would grab his arm, give a squeeze and tell him "a man does not act a fool and a man listens, especially to his mother" and would let his arm go. He often saw Lord Larsan do the same with his brother before he aged, and now to his little brother and sister. He often felt strange watching him grab his siblings, it made him angry but he knew the man was only trying to teach them to behave, for their mother's sake.

Next there was the council men who seated themselves on a table before the dais. The last to sit for the council was a tall, muscled man with dark eyes, graying hair though he was fairly young and a fiercely angry face. He had a mustache of the same colour that fell limp pass his lips, covering a nasty scar he had earned as a teenager running from a bear he had angered. He was dressed in gray and gold silks and a black doublet, with a giant robe of black over his body. He walked in a fashion of wariness, as if he thought someone would jump out and try to kill him on spot. Baros' father trusted this man more than the others...and he knew why. Lord Varnis Lorn had saved his life in battle more than once and had stopped a short lived rebellion from House Tyrell. Baros wasn't sure what to think of this man. And then there was Lord Varnis' bastard son, Rayse Lorn, a young man of twenty and two, whom the girls never stopped chasing and whom the king - Baros' father - had recently began thinking about _legitimizing_ the young man as heir for Lord Varnis' house. He was a hard young man, raised much like a starving dog, yet his skills were amazing enough for Baros' father to recognize and allow into his personal guards. Baros knew how he felt about Rayse, especially when he had given his sister a longing look when she had turned ten and four. He remembered that day well, he had never wanted to tear someone's eyes out more than that.

Next was the family of the Baratheons: first came in the royal family, first in heir and line; Caleb and Casila, then himself, Roland, Mekel and then Alex. Then the second in name and heir to the throne should something befall Calen's line; Barshan Baratheon and Stella, then the eldest son Markes, Nallan, Konner and their two daughters Marisa and Ralyn. Lastly, there was Caleb's sister and Baros' aunt; Isibeal, a woman of 33 and mother of three, forth on the way. Three sons and hopefully a girl on the way.

When all was seated and the food was given, conversation broke out fast. The commoners seated in the corners and center started talking loudly, dancing and singing songs about the past. Baros and the oldest of his cousins, went to the sides and started to drink their wines and talk of knightly things, women, adventure and sparring. Every so often Baros would glance about for his brother, meaning to talk to him about what happened early but would always see Alex, walking from table to table and usually ending back at the family table, to sit beside her aunt, smiling and laughing. He knew his aunt had no girls of her own and prayed to the gods that she would get her girl and that was her reason for enjoying Alex's company so much, but he couldn't figure out his sister's reasons. He spied his youngest sibling sitting on his uncle's lap, laughing and asking about stories of the Baratheons of the Old. He smiled and turned back to his cousins, enjoying the more mature discussions he shared with them.

By the time the food began to die out, Caleb cleared his throat, asked a wench named Tylla to clean the tables and then presented the letter before his people, council and family. They all quieted and turned to look at him, especially the councils and Rayse. "The letter from the North, from the Lord of Winterfell, has arrived this morning and has accepted the king's request." the room cheered, but when Caleb raised his hand they immediately stopped once more, worry plastered onto their faces. "Unfortunately in some cases, I _have_ to arrive at Winterfell for _another_ negotiation...the fortunate part is this is good news as well as a chance for me to see a great family friend of mine, and strengthen the alliance between us." at the announcement of having to leave Storm's End, Baros saw shock hit his sister and his brother Roland's faces; they really did love Storm's End so much they weren't willing to leave it even for a short while; it was amusing to see them share a similar emotion when they were so completely different.

When the dining room was cleared, Baros headed for his father who was talking with his uncle and Lord Varnis. His father's eyes were dark with worry, his mouth set in a flat line against his hard, dark skin and his calloused hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword as he spoke. Something bigger than strengthening the alliance with the Starks was going on, and by the look of his father he knew it serious enough to alarm the city guard and hosts.

"I cannot leave without a Baratheon stationed," he complained, irritated by the council man's persistence on leaving with the family for safety. "If all my blood is off in the North, any enemy could storm my Castle and take the throne."

"But Your Grace, the Iron Throne is in King's Landing...you only came to visit Storm's End, remember?" Lord Varnis muttered, laying a hand on Caleb's shoulder. "Consider, then, sending your family back to King's Landing and have your blood sit there. It would be safer with the White Cloaks there. You would also have nearly all the South around you for protection, as well as your Storms' men up north in case something should arise."

Caleb's face softened as he thought. "It makes sense...but who? I need blood here as well."

Lord Varnis' lips curled into a smile. "How about your brother in King's Landing and your sister here?"

King Caleb shook his head, flexing his hand around the hilt of his sword as he shifted on his feet. "No...she has her own House to return to, I cannot ask her that." before Varnis could offer another suggestion, Baros walked into the talk.

"Father, I would be willing to watch Storm's End while you are gone."

"I need you in the North son," he protested. "No...you will go with me."

"How about Roland then?" the two looked at Lord Varnis with surprise.

"He's merely a boy," Caleb's mouth twitched. "He wouldn't know what to do if something were to happen."

"He would have the Hand then. He could guide him as the Hand to you now...it would only be until you came back, would it not? There is no way something could happen while you are gone."

Caleb's eyes narrowed, but then he sighed, defeated. "I will think on it tonight and seek what Lord Larsan has to say about the plan. Until then, prepare the horses and supplies, we leave in a week and no more than that."

**King's Road**

It had been two months since they left Storm's End during a rather windy ocean storm. It was if the castle was weeping for them...crying that their owners left them behind. It made Baros shiver to the bone. Maybe the gods were showing they too noticed the only ones who managed to defeat them, had left naught but a boy behind to defend them.

Baros felt as if leaving his younger brother in charge of Storm's End with the Hand of the King guiding him was still a mistake. Roland couldn't possibly know what to do and what not to do. The boy also had a terrible temper and would explode in rage at anyone...well, anyone but his father and mother. It seemed as if they calmed him when around, or scared his rage away. But now his little brother sat on the Lord's chair of Storm's End and would see locals and give them council for justice, crimes and other problems. _Father should have left Lord Larsan in charge instead,_ he thought as he glanced over to the carts to his right where his family was riding. His mother was tired and was sleeping in the carts with Mekel, but his sister was riding beside them on her gray horse with white dots running up the hind legs to the top of the arse. She had dressed in more comfortable riding clothes and refused to bring _any_ dresses with her to Winterfell. _I don't blame her,_ he laughed to himself. _I wouldn't want to prance around in those things either just for the sake of pleasing the eyes of overstuffed peacocks._ His father had been riding in the front with Lord Varnis' son and Lord Commander Harren Saerun, an honorable old man of House Saerun whose sigil was a White Owl on black field. "Intelligence, Justice and Truth" was their saying and he had never met a man who stood by it more than Lord Saerun. He had many sons, one who was named after Caleb as 'Cale', a bastard son named Gael Storm, Josha, Kenth, and Naen. He only had two daughters; Emma and the youngest was Clarra.

Just the mention of Lord Saerun's eldest daughter made Baros' face darken, his heart quicken and his mind twirl in dreams of marrying her, making a large family and making her the future queen. Oh how he wanted to hug her and kiss her...he remembered when he first told his father how he felt about her and was appalled when his father arranged the marriage. He didn't want her forced to marry him, he loved Emma but he would never force her, it would be unjust - wrong. But when she admitted loving him back, he had never been so happy in his life. Married for a year now and he hasn't yet found the courage to bed her and give her a child yet. He would when they arrived at Winterfell. He would give her a child then and his father another possible heir after his own son. And if he lost the courage, his childhood friend Romas would punish him until he regained it.

When a Stark host of riders appeared over the lush green hills, Baros knew they were close to Winterfell. The leader of the group galloped all the way down the hill, a line of dust following behind him. He wore his houses colours with a large Direwolf sigil on his breastplate and center of his cape. The men behind him held large spear-poles flying the banner of House Stark.

"Lord Stark is expecting your arrival, Your Grace." the man bowed his head and turned his horse around. Baros noticed then that the side of the man's face had been burned terribly, but his dark green eyes shun brightly - happily. "If you would follow, we'll escort you and your host the rest of the way." he kicked the sides of his horse and it sped off in a quick dash back toward the hill. At once, Caleb started and then the host, slowing behind their king.

**Winterfell; Gathering**

It wasn't like he remembered. The walls looked much gloomier than the ones in Storm's End, but the scenery was beautiful. The wolfswood could be seen from within Winterfell. The walls were tall, but even with that the trees were matching the heights and often taller. The moat was even deeper to him now, or at least he remembered it being smaller before when he was just ten and five.

He glanced up and spotted the Stark men parched on the walls, spears and bows in hands and stern expressions on. The men of Storm's End were trained hard, to withstand and destroy, but the Northern men were trained so well in the arts of sword, that one Northern was worth at least ten Southern soldiers, and Baros knew this to be true. Lord Stark was a fabulous fighter. He could still remember watching him take fifty men down all by himself and still be ready for more. It was an inspiring sight, to see one man fight so many. He had hoped to be trained like that but even with all his training, he could only take on ten, maybe fifteen if he pushed it. He dared not to try more in fear of getting whelps the size of apples all about his body.

When they passed the first wall and then the second, they were greeted by the scent of fresh bread, savory stew and freshly cut hay for the horses. It was a beautiful change than the ones he was so use to; the greens, the reds...the colours and smells! He glanced over to his siblings and spotted Mekel with large eyes of interest. He pointed to one of the watchtowers and started asking his mother thousands of questions. A chuckle escaped Baros' mouth as he pulled his horse to a stop._ He will enjoy the time here...the poor boy barely has anything to do in Storm's End._ He glanced ahead of him and saw his father dismounting even though they were far from the Lord's chambers and went directly toward a short man. It was a Maester - Baros knew by the chain around his neck - and then disappeared into the crowds.

A hand on his shoulder dress his attention. He looked down to his right and smiled at the young man staring back at him. "Romas!" Baros laughed, dismounting to give his friend a hug. He looked at the young man, forgetting how tall he was and how long his face was. His face was covered in dark, brownish-red hair and his head the same, cut short. His sparkling blue eyes were shadowed by his somewhat bushy eyebrows, but there wasn't nothing "somewhat" about his size; he was a tall man, who was muscled very well. His chest pushed out and his shouldered broad and heavy. His mother said he was a handsome young man, fit for stories and songs...what was he then? "Somewhat" handsome? He chuckled. "You have grown even taller Romas. Why, if you keep growing I'm going to have to assume you are a Giant!" that brought laughter from his friend.

"Not a Giant, just ate my heathlies like my Lady mother commanded is all," he put an arm around his friend and started to walk him forward. "You brought your whole family this time? I didn't know you had more than one brother and a sister! What are their names?"

Baros pointed to Mekel. "Mekel right there." and then he pointed to his sister petting her horse's head softly as her eyes inspected the towers and statues of the wolves. "That's my sister Alexandra...Alex is what we call her."

"Alex?" his mouth hardened at the name, but then softened. "A beautiful name for a beautiful young lady then," Baros punched his arm. "No no, I'm a married man! But that doesn't mean my eyes have melted. Besides, I hadn't meant it _that_ way."

"So how well is your Lady wife? Last time I heard, she was pregnant. I want to see the babe!"

"Yes yes," he said smiling brightly as he led Baros through the arch of the second moat. A few dogs ran pass chasing a chicken who were being chased by children. "A boy...he is named Ronan, after my great-great grandfather. He is strong and healthy and the gods were good...gave him her looks! He will be very handsome!" he paused then, glanced at his old friend and bunched his eyes in confusion. "What of Emma exactly? You have been married a year now and no babe? Why?"

"I have tried...no, I mean I haven't, she's still a maiden...but."

"But?"

"I don't know if I have the courage to."

"To? Gods...you love her, don't you? Just bed her already and make her happy."

"Maybe you're right," he muttered, blushing. "I was going to tonight. I would have hated loving her in Storm's End, or anywhere south actually. The place is dull and ugly." he smiled. "Tonight then!"

**Alex**

She left the little host shortly after they arrived and found a stable to lock her horse safely up. Spirit was his name, a strong young male bred in Highgarden. He was given to her when she was ten and three and rarely ever stayed away from him for long. He was faster than any horse in Storm's End and any other in the south. People came by to buy him or breed him all the time, but her father chased them away most of the time. It was the fanciest and nicest gift she ever received in her life and did not expect it from her parents. _At least I was given you Spirit,_ she let her hand run down his head and past his flaring nostrils. With a pat on the back, she reached to take the rope off and close the gate door when she heard a voice.

"...aye...sword...knock..." she turned around and went for the door, not really wanting to be seen and sent back to her father when she had exploring to do. "I left it...don't..." when she reached the door and pulled the wide oak doors open, she came face to face (well, face to face when she looked up!) with a young man with curly, dark-reddish-brown hair and deep steel-blue eyes. He had light stubble on his long, squarish face. He had a thin, straight nose set against his fairly coloured skin and matching his narrow eyebrows that gave him a natural strong appearance. He was dressed in long, black trousers, leather boots with an empty sheath buckled to his waist. His shirt was missing and she could see bruises and fresh cuts as well as his lightly appearing abs. He gave her a small, lop-sided smile and made her blush.

She hadn't noticed the second man beside him, maybe in his early twenties until he spoke. "What are you doing in here, girl?" he had a rough voice with smoldering golden eyes, a angry frown and a large, flat face complete with a pug-nose and a scar reaching up from the corner of his mouth to the tip of his nose to the left. He had a head of complete black hair with long side-burns and darkly tanned skin. In his hand was a iron rode as long as as her forearm. He was dressed in muddy smithy clothes and had burns on his finger-tips. Before she could offer a reply, he growled it once more "I said, what are you doing in here!"

"I was locking my horse up," she muttered and then remembered that she was in Winterfell and that he might be a Lord of Stark or a Lord of some other house. "M'lord." she finished.

"And _who_ said ya could?"

"Dashen, leave her be," the other replied with irritation. He turned his steal-blue eyes to her and gave her a soft smile. "M'lady, are you with the Baratheon Host?" she had completely forgot about that and nodded. "Lost then?" another nod, though she really wasn't lost...yet. She didn't want to stick around that Dashen any longer. "Then I guess I should take you to the hall; come," he offered his arm and she accepted, following the young man out the farm and toward the hall. "I'm sorry about Dashen," he whispered, not looking down at her. _He's so tall,_ she thought as she tried to keep her eyes away from his face. _Taller than father and Baros._ She heard his voice again, this time it was softer and relaxing. "A lady shouldn't be talked to like that. I will speak with him and have him know his manners."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and offered her weak voice. "It is fine, really...I hadn't meant to linger there any longer than I did, its just-"

"-Alex!" a voice shouted and the two young teenagers glanced up the steps to the hall to spot Casila Baratheon with her hands on her hips and her face bunched in anger. Alex's eyes went wide and she squeaked, pulling her arm away from the young man as her mother bounded down the stairs, holding the tips of her light skirt up. "Where have you been young lady? The Starks have been waiting for nearly an hour on _you_!"

"I was putting Spirit away, mother." she replied calmly, embarrassed that the young man would hear this argument and most likely the punishment for her lateness, especially during a meeting _this_ important. "I had lost track of time, I'm sorry."

"_Sorry_? That should be said to Lady Stark. She was worried one of those _wolves_ killed you!" she muttered fiercely which caused the girl to shrink down.

"The Direwolves?" the young man asked, a little smile on his face. "The only 'wolves' present are the Direwolves and I can assure you, my Queen, that they are very well trained. I personally saw to it." Alex's mother turned then, her angry eyes now soft and glowing when she saw the man's face.

"Robert?" she asked, walking up to him to place her hands on his face and pull around his cheeks. "You have grown far more handsome than I remembered."

He laughed, pulling her hands away softly. "Robb," he correctly sweetly. "And you say all my brothers are handsome, my Queen." she giggled.

"That's because all you Starks are handsome men." she replied, missing Alex's surprised face to find out who he was and then turned to her daughter. "Thank Lord Robert, my daughter and hurry up to the dining room." she turned on her heel and started up the steps.

"Alex?" he asked, looking down at her. "And you are the daughter of the queen?" she blushed again and looked down. "I am glad I directed you as 'M'lady' back there, Princess. And it fits you perfectly" he smiled.

"No it doesn't," she blurted out, her eyes full of fury as she pushed away from him and headed for the stairs.

**Baros**

Men in golden armor arrived soon after them, surrounding a small family who wore the finest silks and fabrics he had ever seen. They were all golden hair except the mother, who had hair of light brown and big round eyes of light brown. The father, Paytan Lannister, had a head of curly golden hair that framed his smooth, perfect face and eyes of blue. He had a long, pointy face and nose and a tall build. He was a great swordsman, but Baros knew he wasn't the best. Then there was his children, two girls and three sons he knew as Farron, Mike and Ganon. They had a snobby look about them that made Baros annoyed. What was worse was their patience. When his sister was late, the father whined about her not being properly trained to be a lady and for wasting their precious time like this, which Caleb tried to keep calm about but Baros could see the fury building in his father's eyes.

When she finally arrived, followed by Lord Robert 'Robb' Stark, a young man of ten and seven, the Lannisters gave her an irritated look, but when Paytan actually 'saw' her, it stopped his anger and he sat back, smiling and biting his tongue. She sat by her brother and apologized to her family for being late, and then the Starks and Lannisters and then the meeting finally started.

Lord Stark was sitting with his youngest on his lap, listening to his King's words intently. This man, Baros thought, had a strong, honorable look about him, much like Lord Saerun, but something about his steel-gray eyes spoke of power, knowledge, strength, courage and more. It was exactly as he last remembered seeing this man; awe inspiring and completely noble to the bone. The little girl he held became to swarm out of his arms and started to cry for her mother, who swiftly arrived to pick the babe up and rock her to calmness with soothing words and small songs.

Caleb talked of battle, of the Tyrells and Martells and the potential losses they represented to the Iron Throne and more. He talked of rewards, honors and lands and even titles, given to whoever would join with him to end the Tyrell's second rebellion. "More dragons and stags that you could count," he promised them. "I cannot risk them causing problems for us and losing people because of it..."

"And we, you must understand, cannot risk alienating ourselves against them. They could swarm us by sea and do us great harm. I have a family to think about," Lord Paytan Lannister growled. "Why should I risk them for the throne?"

"Because you have sworn yourself to him," Lord Stark said softly. "A man cannot unswear what he swore."

"Lions don't swear themselves to stags," he hissed. "especially when _that_ stag will not bring defenses to Casterly Rock to defend its people." he was pushing his luck against the king and was winning. Caleb had to win the Lannisters over and if it meant being talked to in such a manner, he was willing to have it. Stark's eyes glowed with rage.

"Is that you speak to your king? So lowly?"

"I haven't sworn myself to him - my foolish father did, but I am not my father."

"Your house still owns up to it," he protested. "If you were not a guest here, I would have you thrown in chains!"

"Enough!" Caleb shouted, slamming his large hands down onto the table with such force, it knocks the goblets of wine over. "I do not have time for the lion and wolf battle you two have! Westeros needs to unite and defend itself. That cannot be done if the king doesn't have the proper amount of men to take care of the issues!" they went silent. He calmed, sat and then glanced at Paytan. "What would you require then, Lord Lannister?"

Paytan's eyes scanned the table angrily a few times before they fell upon the king's face. "A marriage," he paused. "between your daughter and my son Farron. That would win my alliance." Paytan said happily and smiling. Baros gasped. _Alex!_ He turned his head to see his sister and mother's reaction and found their faces struck with shock and horror. His sister's face had paled considerably and her hands shook under the table. _She's worried...she's worried father will agree. He wouldn't...no, he wouldn't sell her off like that, especially to the Lannisters. She must know that._ He watched her eyes as his father spoke.

"You would have the hand of the girl you spoke badly of not longer than a few hours ago?" Caleb queried, furious and red-face for once during the meeting. Paytan just gave him a wicked smile which made Caleb even angrier. The king threw over his plates and drew his sword, a black hilted sword with a dark gray blade called Ender and pointed it at Paytan. "Do not take me as a craven, you bastard of a Lannister!" he shouted, his knuckles turning white over the fierce grasp of Ender.

"Craven?" he asked innocently. "No, not craven..._desperate_." the whole room gasped and started to whisper. "You would have my men, my _only_ defenses, for stags and dragons? What good would your stags be if my people are rotting in the ground? What good would they be if my family is slaughtered during a Tyrell raid!" he snapped furiously. "Over the last thirty years you Baratheons took and took from the Lannisters and now I am the Lord and I make the decisions. I will not risk anything for _your stags_!"

"But you would for the hand of a girl!" Lord Stark asked, perplexed by Paytan's wants.

Paytan smiled. "Yes, I would for a certain _doe_. Marriages insure safety, alliances...lines to _certain_ thrones."

Caleb's nose was flaring by the time he dropped back into his seat, his eyes never leaving Paytan's face as he thought angrily over his terms. When he was completely calm, Baros glanced back at his sister and saw her watching her father's face, trying to interpret what he would decide and saw fear. And then he finally spoke. "You...have-"

"-Father please," Alex pleaded, standing. "I do no want to marry a Lannister...I don't want to marry anyone I do not know. Please father, don't make me marry his son." He looked into his daughter's face and frowned. "Please?"

He had a broken voice when he replied. "You can get to know him, darling, with time and-"

"-No!" she snapped. "I will _not_ marry a honorless, wretched _Lannister_! I will not!" Paytan nor any of the other Lannisters didn't seem to care what she called them.

"You shall marry whoever I say you will," he hissed, gesturing to his wife to tell her to sit down and mind her tongue. "Be it Lannister, Mormont or Greyjoy!" her face finally gained color then, but Baros had wished it was another shade other than red. When she refused to sit down by request of her mother, he snarled. "Now sit down or I'll chain you to that damn chair!" now tears filled her eyes as she pushed her chair back and made way for the door, ignoring him. "Young lady, get back here now!" she just kept walking. "_Now_!" the whole room was watching now, desperately wishing they had not accompanied the meeting. If not for the Lannister shame that just went on, definitely for _this_. Nothing angered Caleb more than family defiance and ignorance, especially shaming his family in front of others.

Baros then, before his father barked at a guard to drag her back, laid a hand on his father's shoulder. "Father, let her go." he whispered. "you just practically sold her off to a Lannister in front of everyone...she is allowed her anger." he gripped his hands and shrugged away from his son's touch. He refused to look over at his wife's enraged face.

"Find her then and make sure that thick skull of hers understands her duty is to the House _first_." he whispered, showing a bit of guilt and grief.

**[-]**

When he found his sister she was in the stables by Spirit, sobbing into the stallion's mane, her hands tangled within his hair, gripping tangles of it in frustration. By her feet were packed saddlebags and supplies and on Spirit's back, a blanket and saddle. A sword was buckled to the saddle which he knew was the one he had given her as a gift on her last name-day. She had named it Lightning for its blue blade and yellow-black hilt, which looked like a bolt of lightning clashing down into the raging sea. He came to stand by her side and pulled her into a hug. "My dear sister...you do not have to worry about this. Our father will do what's right in the end."

She sniffed and pulled her head away from his chest, her eyes red and swollen. "And what if he thinks this **is** best? I do not want to marry a man I do not know...especially a Lannister."

Baros frowned, touched his sister's cheek softly and then shook his head. "He won't, don't worry."

**Caleb**

The look of complete despair on his daughter's face made his heart tighten and beat faster than he thought it could, but he knew protecting her life and finding a means of protection meant more to him than having her love and having to bury his daughter should war cross her path. Or worse...should an enemy capture her and torture her because of him. If it meant marrying her off to a Lannister, he was willing to do it.

The night's dinner was a mess. He knew the Lannisters had laughed themselves silly afterward and the Starks worried themselves to sleep, but what could he do? When he went to bed, his wife started yelling at him and even slapped him a couple times but eventually she calmed and listened to his reasons and...understood? Though she was still furious about it.

"I thought you meant to marry her to a Stark," his wife whispered as she laid her head against his chest, sleep coming over her. He took a deep breath and nodded.

"I did...I _still_ do. If I still had two daughters, I would marry each of them off; one to a Lannister and one to a Stark." when his wife didn't reply, he looked down at her face and saw her eyes full of tears. "Oh my dearheart...I didn't mean to upset you." he whispered, rubbing her arms.

"I miss her. My sweet little Robyn!" she sobbed into her husband's chest, her tears wetting his night tunic. All he could do was hug her tightly against him.

"She's with the gods now sweetheart...and oh how they must enjoy her company."

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><p><strong>Starks:<strong>

Parents; Lord Gerard Stark and Lady Rachel Tully**  
><strong>

Children; (_Boys_) Robb "Robert' 17, Aren 18, Romas 24 | (_Girls_) Anna 3 & Branna 16

**Baratheons:**

Parents; King Caleb Baratheon and Casila Lorasa

Children; (_Boys_) Baros 24, Roland 19, Mekel 8 | (_Girls_) Alex "Alexandra" & Robyn 16

**Lannisters:**

Parents; Lord Paytan Lannister and Crissy Swyft

Children;_ (boys)_ Farron 20, Michael "Mike" 19, and Ganon 23 | _(girls)_ Fenella & Bree

**Lorns:**

Parents; Lord Varnis Lorn & dead serving woman

Children; Rayse Lorn, bastard of 22.

**Hand of the King:**

Larsan (Larsa by the king and his sister) Barrens

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><p><em>That's it for chapter one! I hope you guys liked the prologue chapter and thank you so much for reading! I look forward to reviews! Thanks! Thanks and thanks again!<em>


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